Robot Rock
by Virginia Wolfe
Summary: Just a oneshot to play around with on a lazy afternoon. For all of the awesomeness that was Step Up 3, I'm surprised not to see any Madd Chadd fics on here. After all, robots need love too. Enjoy. Read & Review.


**Robot Rock**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to the Step Up universe. If it seems familiar to you, that means it isn't mine. Delia, however, does belong to me. I rather like her. **

**Author's Note: Hi all. So this is my first story in this category. I've got a MooseOC fic floating around in my head, but I'm not ready to tackle that bad boy with all my other projects. I've also got a Madd Chadd centered fic that is screaming to be written. It would be considerably longer than this story, so we'll see. If you guys seem to like what I've put together here, than maybe that will become a future project. In the meantime, I'm just playing around with it in my head. Ok. So for this little bad boy, it all takes place over the course of about 24 hours. So don't let the length throw you off. As far as Delia goes, I don't go into too much detail surrounding her appearance because I like for the reader to take a little artistic license with her. But in case you're interested, my inspiration for her was Jessica Szohr from _Gossip Girl._ Never seen the show personally, but she's got Delia's look down exactly. Or maybe Delia has her look. That's probably more appropriate. haha. Anyways, enjoy the story. I had fun writing it today. Just something to waste some time with. Enjoy. Let me know what you think. **

**Happy Reading.  
-V.**

**88888888**

Even from behind the bar, the harsh thumping of the base tickled the bottoms of her feet, and sent tiny shockwaves throughout the drinks that littered the bar causing the liquid inside of them to ripple in tune with the music. None of the patrons seemed to mind. In fact, they welcomed it. There wasn't a corner in the club where you could retreat to in order to escape the music blaring from all of the speakers.

And that was just fine with everyone.

Once you entered the club, there was almost a forfeiting of sorts where you surrendered your rights as a citizens of the world just outside the front doors; and you would succumb to the rhythms of this new world.

Strange.

Alien.

But beautiful and familiar.

And some of the club's dancers had surrendered their rights to this strange and beautiful world permanently, choosing instead the dark flashing lights and the throbbing base that seemed to extract movement from anyone and everyone. Some people, far more ignorant people, might've accused those select few of being cowardly, of hiding from the real world and all of its problems. But, if they were being completely honest for honesty's sake, who wouldn't have made that same choice?

And any of the club's dancers would tell you without a moment's hesitation that a life without music, without dance, was no life at all.

"2 shots of Tequila, 1 Black Russian, a Rum with Coke, and a beer on tap." Delia snapped to attention, her string of daydreams momentarily broken. Her well-trained ears had long since learned to pick up drink orders above the dull roar of the music, and her hands set to work automatically pulling out glasses before her brain had time to register. With just a tiny bit of a flair to appease the handsome brunette who had placed the order, she finished the drinks in an impressive 21 seconds, and called out the amount due after adding it up in her head without any effort. It was all habit.

He passed her two twenties, and was gone in a flash. Such was the train of motion in a high powered dance club like this, but Delia hardly cared. In fact, of all of the bars in all of the clubs that she had ever tended, this one was by far her favorite. It may not have had the glitz and glamour of some of the other big city clubs, but it didn't matter. Not to her, and certainly not to the club's patrons. The atmosphere was charged with something different. In her eight months of working there, she hadn't exactly pinpointed it. But it was as true now as it had been the day she had first walked in the place looking for the owner to talk about a job. Fortunately, she didn't care why the place moved and seemed to come alive in such a way. She was just glad that it did.

A couple of the club's regulars passed by and nodded to her in acknowledgement, and she tipped her head in return. Yes. It was a strange world contained within broken down walls on a busted New York city street, but there was a vitality about the place that no one could deny. The music was always great, the people were awesome, and the dancing- well, it was electrifying. And while she was only a top notch bartender and had no dance skill to claim as her own, Delia had come to regard the club as her home away from home.

And that suited her just fine.

The music shifted bleeding into a new song, and a subdued cheer could be heard from the dance floor. Delia felt him before she saw him, and on instinct, her pulse quickened. It was did that when he was around. Initially, she had tried to subdue the pounding in her chest, arguing that her job was no place for that sort of emotional response. Not for anyone. Definitely not for one of the managers. That was a pink slip waiting to happen.

Unfortunately, try as she might, she just couldn't shake the feeling. Not since the first moment his remarkable blue eyes had met hers. Not since the first time he had smiled at her in passing and the bottom of her stomach dropped to the floor. Not since he had introduced himself with all the charm and grace of a storybook prince all the while maintaining an edge that was hot to the touch. And certainly not since she had seen him dance.

However, eight months later, her guilty conscience had subsided a considerable amount. After all, the club seemed to demand surrender to passions. And from the looks of things, no one else in the place had a problem doing just that. Why should she? And so she continued to take orders, dole out drinks, accept her tips with a smirk that was only half innocent, and she watched him from afar. It was just as well. She reasoned it was better to pine for him and not scare the crap out of him by admitting her feelings than to lose him completely. And she would absolutely lose him. She was just a bartender. He was…something else entirely.

She rolled her eyes. 'When did I become so stupid over a guy?' she thought to herself, and inhaled deeply, handing two beers to whoever called out for them. She was on autopilot at the moment. 'Mom would lay it on me if she saw me acting like this.' A barrage of memories flooded her senses like snapshots or a movie in fast forward. Memories like her mom hosting a support group for battered women in the apartment that she shared with her only daughter. Memories like her mom reading Nikki Giovanni and Kate Chopin aloud before bed.

'Yeah,' she thought. 'Mom would've had a field day with this one!'

A cheer rose up once again from the dance floor. Before she had time to stop herself from doing so, she shook herself out of her mental stroll/mad dash down memory lane, and turned her attention to the dance floor. Immediately, her features fell.

The leggy blond that was throwing herself at _him_ left nothing to the imagination. Delia offered a snarky chuckle, her voice a mixture of morbid amusement and defeat. Of course he would dance with that girl- whoever she was. Delia didn't know what bothered her more about the scene playing itself out in front of her. The fact that 'Barbie' had legs up to her eyes, that her spray tanned stomach was perfectly toned, or the fact that her face looked like it belongs on a magazine cover. Toss in the undeniable fact that the girl could more than hold her own on the dance floor, and Delia was ready to put her head (topped with unexceptional black hair, courtesy of her Puerto Rican mother) through the nearest wall.

She slapped on a plastic smile when Anala and Jacob stopped at the bar.

"Hey girl!" Anala's enthusiasm was nearly contagious, and Delia couldn't help but genuinely smile as she replied to the girl. Of all of the girls that danced at the club (and lived in the studio right above it), Delia was closest to Anala. The girl stood out like a sore thumb krumping and popping her way through the crowds, her scorching red hair signaling her dynamite presence everywhere she went. But she was sweet and surprisingly mellow. And she had gone out of her way to instantly bond with the 'new girl at the bar'. Delia would always appreciate that.

Jacob smiled at Delia, muttering a staccato greeting as she passed Anala a shot of Jack without the redhead even asking for it. Jacob had always liked Delia. She was a mass of contradictions. Tough as nails exterior, but a heart of gold. An innocent demeanor, but she could spin a vodka bottle with the best of them. And in his recent three months as the club's owner since Luke passed the reins onto him, he had come to respect her work ethic. She genuinely enjoyed her job. She was great at what she did.

Anala smiled before downing the shot in one gulp and slamming the glass back on the bar. "You're my girl, you know that?" she asked, her forehead glistening with sweat from dancing.

"Yeah, yeah. Me and every other girl behind the bar who doesn't charge you for your drinks." Delia smiled as she passed Jacob his beer.

Anala laughed. "Yeah, but you're the only one who doesn't shoot me mean looks while doing it."

Delia smiled in return, but the smile faded considerably as she took in a familiar face heading towards the bar. "That's because I save the mean looks for other people," she muttered to Jacob and Anala under her breath. The two turned slowly to follow her gaze, and shifted down a bit to make some more room.

"Gimme a Pink Lady." Delia raised her eyebrows slightly at _Barbie's_ rather demanding request, but the girl hardly noticed as she was too busy straightening her hair. Delia slapped on a sickeningly fake smile.

"One Pink Lady coming right up. I.D. please?" At this, Barbie paused and turned to stare at Delia, her expression a pleasing combination of shocked and confused.

"Excuse me?"

If at all possible, Delia's smile grew even larger. "Just need to see some I.D. before I get to work on that Pink Lady. Good choice by the way. Very pink."

"I don't have my I.D. on me," argued Barbie (whose name was actually Becca, but that hardly mattered to Delia at the moment).

"Oops," Delia said, her voice filled with pseudo-concern. "Probably not the best thing to forget at home when heading to a bar."

Barbie narrowed her baby blue eyes. "I didn't _forget_ it. I left it. A purse doesn't go well with this outfit. What else was I supposed to do?" Her voice was starting to ring frustrated.

"Off the top of my head, all I can come up with is choose a different outfit. But what do I know? I'm just the bartender," Delia retorted, hardly in the mood to play games with this girl. Anala glanced sideways at Jacob.

Barbie planted her hands on the bar and leaned forward. "You're right," she said calmly, her voice betraying any calmness about her. "You are the bartender. So your job is to tend the bar and make the drinks that we order. Now, a Pink Lady please?"

Delia smirked. "How about a water? I'll throw in one of those paper umbrellas."

"This is friggin' ridiculous!" She stomped her feet in a rather childish way. "Why won't you just make the stupid drink?"

Delia's blue eyes hardened, and Jacob's eyebrows raised. "Look Miss Priss, rules are rules. I'm not about to lose my Liquor License just because you couldn't pick out a skirt with a pocket…and maybe a couple more inches of fabric." Barbie's jaw dropped. "Especially with my boss sitting right there," she said, gesturing to Jacob. "What if someone called the cops?"

"You're calling the cops?" Barbie shouted.

"I don't think so." And the argument was settled just like that.

"I'm outta here. See if I ever come back to this rat hole!" Barbie stomped her foot once more for the road before turning on her four inch heels and swiftly making her way out of the club.

"No, wait, please come back," Delia said in a sarcastic monotone, a smirk on her tanned face, before she began laughing to herself. She ran her hand through her hair before turning to notice Alana and Jacob watching her with twin looks of surprise on their faces.

"What?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

"Look at that," Alana said, a smirk splashed across her face. "The cat has claws."

"Oh come on. She was asking for it." Delia turned from them to prepare a couple of drinks.

"You never ask to see our I.D.," Anala said, running her finger along the rim of the glass.

Delia shrugged. "I know you guys."

"You didn't ask to see that guy's I.D." Jacob pointed to the man who had just recently left the bar, drinks in tow.

Delia stumbled for a moment. "I've served that guy drinks a bunch of times…maybe."

"Miss Priss?" Anala asked, trying her best not to laugh.

"Well, if I had seen her I.D., I would've known what to call her." At that, Anala burst out laughing.

"And what about mentioning the length of her skirt?" Jacob asked, his eyebrows raised.

Delia pondered the question, searching for the best answer before smiling guiltily. "Ok. So that one was all me." The three of them shared a laugh, and Delia passed out two more beers, pocketing the tips.

"All right, I'm gonna head back out there. I'm feeling all stiff sitting here with you two old ladies." Anala leaned over the bar and planted a kiss on Delia's cheek before turning towards the dance floor and sliding her way onto it. The floor was packed, but they made room for her. They always did. She just had that effect on people. Delia smiled.

Jacob followed Delia with his eyes for a moment as he nursed his beer. "That girl," he said quietly, noting the bar had cleared, at least for the moment. "She was the one that was dancing before with Vladd, right?"

Delia's hand slipped, and she nearly lost hold of the bottle she was putting away. However, her reflexes were sharp enough that she caught it in time. Unfortunately, they weren't quick enough to have prevented the slip up to begin with. And it hadn't gotten past Jacob.

"Uh, yeah, I think so." Jacob nodded, his eyes still on her.

"So when are you going to talk to him?" he asked, his voice filled with an all-knowing wisdom that unnerved her.

"What are you talking about? I talk to him all the time." Jacob looked at her, and she sighed. "How about the week after never?" she muttered as she tossed a wet rag onto the bar and proceeded to wipe it down. In his opinion, it wasn't looking too shabby to begin with, but he had a feeling that her cleaning the bar had very little to do with actually cleaning the bar and more to do with avoiding his gaze.

"Delia, how long have you been working with us?"

She turned the numbers in her head. "Eight months this Tuesday."

He nodded. "And how long have you been in love with Vladd?"

Her eyes widened as she stumbled for an answer. Her words were long and drawn out. "Um…eight months this Tuesday."

Jacob smiled softly at her. "Don't you think it's about time you do something about it?"

"What? No way. Not ever. Are you k-kidding me?" she asked, her voice reaching a panicked register.

"Well, we all think it's about time." He sipped on his beer, and could only imagine her eyes widening in horror.

"Wait, when you say 'we all', do you mean…everyone?" He nodded. And she buried her face in her hands resisting the urge to shriek. "What do you mean everyone? Does he know? Does Vladd know?"

Jacob laughed as he handed her the empty bottle, and watched as she deposited it without a thought. "Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't. He tends not to talk about those sorts of things." She ran a shaking hand through her hair. This had all unraveled so quickly.

'I should've just made her freaking Pink Lady,' she thought to herself. She glanced up at Jacob, and resisted the urge to grimace at his smile. "Wait a minute. Aren't you my boss? Shouldn't you be discouraging relationships among the staff?"

He laughed outright. "Give me a break. I've been in charge for three months. Trial basis sort of thing. I'll nail the etiquette down later." She nodded her head in sarcastic agreement as she took serving a few more drink orders. She was thankful that the bar was as well-staffed as it was. Gave her a minute here and there to gather her thoughts and talk to her friends. But she was always a bit eager to get back into the swing of things. The pace of her life was hectic. She preferred it that way. And the bar was no different. Always a new someone, a new drink, a new something. She was in the process of couple their shots, and was providing a little much needed entertainment, spinning the bottle behind her back and over her head like a pro. She wasn't on the level as some of the flair bartenders she had seen on the internet, but she wasn't too shabby in her own right. And it did work to rake in extra tips. People loved a good show, after all.

"Hey Delia." The bottle slipped from her hand and hit the floor with an unwelcomed thumb as she looked up to see Vladd taking a seat next to Jacob, a smile on his face as his cool blue eyes were fixed on hers. She could feel her cheeks heating up in humiliation and dropped beneath the bar to retrieve the fallen bottle. She popped back up again only to find his eyes still on her, his _and _Jacob. And while their faces and features were polar opposites, both of their smiles seemed to read the same sort of twisted amusement at her expense. She finished off the two shots and took the cash with an apologetic smile. The couple just walked off, clearly not amused by her butterfingers.

She looked down at the cash in her hand and heaved a sigh. "How generous of them. They left a thirty-two cent tip." Vladd smirked.

"Maybe if you hadn't dropped the bottle..." He didn't finish his statement. He didn't need to. Her pointed glare was amusing enough. Jacob nodded his head, taking this exchange between the two as his cue to leave.

He looked at Delia one last time as he retreated from the bar to rejoin the other dancers. "Think about what I told you." Her eyes widened in terror. The guy wasn't even _attempting_ to be remotely discreet. She glanced around for a suitable hole to bury her head in, but was unsuccessful.

"What did he tell you?" Vladd asked, popping a few peanuts into his mouth. She swallowed hard.

"To...to listen to this song...he mentioned." She was a crummy liar, but she hoped with all she had that he couldn't tell. He nodded and seemed to take her at her word.

"So aside from the crappy tips, how's your night going?"

"Not too shabby," she said with a slight smile. 'If you disregard the fact that I almost clawed out some bimbo's eyes all because she danced with you, and it's come to my attention that everyone knows I'm hopelessly addicted to you.' Even though the thought was contained inside of her head, it made her nervous to have him so close while she thought it. As if he could read those sorts of thoughts in her. The whole thing unnerved her, and so she jumped quickly to move past the strangeness.

"What about you? Good night?" She moved around behind the bar attending to different things.

"Not too shabby," he joked, mirroring her response. She laughed lightly as she mixed a lady's drink. "The dance floor was pretty out of hand." She took that to be a good thing. "Except for this one girl. She looked a little bit out of her element. Like she was on the set of a Snoop Dog video or something." He laughed at his own joke, and she had to join in. "She ran out of here fast though. Looked pissy about something."

"You don't say?"

If he noticed her heavy sarcasm, he didn't let on. "Yeah, kinda hard to pop and glide and all that when you've got someone all up on you like that."

"Yeah, I bet," she said, trying to participate as best she could in the conversation. Fortunately, while she knew very little regarding dancing, she had been in club environments to know enough to get by. And she had seen him dance enough to know what he was saying. After all, it was his dancing that had first pulled her in. That and his eyes. Oh, and his smile. And his handshake. Very respectable and firm, but still cautious, like he was afraid of breaking her. Oh, and his...well, maybe everything all worked together to draw her in. So dancing wasn't the _first _thing she had noticed about him. It was certainly one of the most important things about him. His dancing wasn't just something he did. It was _who_ he was. Vital to his life. Like breathing. She snapped from her momentary daze, pleased to see his attentions were focused on the dance floor, enough so that he hadn't noticed her far off puppy dog gaze.

"So, what can I getcha?" she asked, leaning casually over the bar.

"How about the usual." He smiled at her; a moment later, his smile broke into a small laugh.

She shook her head with a smirk, and pulled out a glass, filling it with ice. "You're the only guy I know whose 'usual' is a glass of ice water." She placed the chilled water in front on him, and dropped a straw inside.

"Only thing I want when I'm dancing." He finished half the glass within the first few gulps. "Besides, I get it with ice. It's a water on the rocks. That's cool, right?"

She laughed. "Yeah, not so much. But hey! If we're trying to redeem this boring glass of water, then there you go." She pulled out a lemon rind from behind the bar, broke it, and dropped it into the glass.

He raised his eyebrows. "Water on the rocks _with a twist_. Very impressive." She mock bowed. He finished off the rest of the water and slammed the glass down. She had it deposited behind the bar a moment later. "Well, I'm gonna get back out there. Thanks for the water."

He was gone just like that, and in a flash, was back on the dance floor causing a multitude of shouts and whistles to go up. She sighed, and then whipped out a wet rag, continuing her needless assault of the bar top.

**88888888**

**After closing that night...**

The late hours of the night had fused into the early crack of dawn hours in the morning. The club patrons had all since head home, and the only people left were the handful of staff and the dancers that lived upstairs. Music was still playing softly, or as softly as it _could _be played. Jacob, Vladd, and the twins were tidying up the dance floor and bathrooms while Anala and the rest of the girls turns up the chairs. The Ticks were running around with brooms and mops doing with three boys what one man could've easily done. The rest of the house's occupants were scattered throughout the club doing their part to shut it down for the night or had since retreated back upstairs. The thumping of a base could be heard upstairs, and Delia smiled.

'Ever the party.' She had only seen the apartment twice. Once with Anala to check it out to begin with. And once with Jacob to sign some payroll stuff. The two visits had been enough though. Enough to cement in her mind that dance really was the center of their universe. Delia smiled at the few remaining bartenders as they said their goodnights and exited through the front door. The night had dragged on, but she didn't do as bad as she had anticipated. There weren't too many more people cashing out thirty-two cent tips. And she was grateful for that. These days, she really had to stretch those dollars.

She clapped Jacob on the back, and steadied her bag on her shoulder. "I'm out." He nodded his acknowledgement. She pivoted on her heels, and headed for the door only to be stopped by three nervous _ticks. _

"Are you leaving?" Shonnie asked. She nodded.

Aja frowned. "All by yourself?"

Delia looked around. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Doesn't Kylar usually walk home with you?" Terence asked, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.

"Yeah, but I sent him home with the others. Guess I wasn't thinking. It'll be all right though."

"How far away do you live?" Aja asked, leaving on the broom in his hands.

Delia shrugged, not entirely sure where this sudden barrage of questions was coming from. "I don't know. Three? Four blocks?"

"No." "No way." "Not happening." The Ticks all chimed in at once shaking their heads and waving their hands. Before she had a chance to shush them, Alana had joined in on the fun. And Delia grimaced.

"What is their deal?" she asked, not sparing them a confused stare.

"She's trying to convince us that her walking five or six blocks home alone is no big deal," Terence said, rolling his eyes with an immaturity that belied his age. Delia opened her mouth to argue the fact that the walk was actually only four blocks, but never had a chance.

Alana turned her sights on Delia with an eyebrow raised. "Oh really. No big deal? Girl, you are not walking that by yourself."

Delia laughed in shock. "What else am I supposed to do? Kylar's gone. And I need to get home. I'm not hailing a cab because it's a waste of money. So my only option is walking."

"Nope. Not gonna fly mama." Alana grabbed Delia's hand and half dragged her over to where Jacob and Vladd were standing and talking. "Jacob, Delia's trying to sneak home all by herself. The walk is six or seven blocks, and she sent Kylar home."

Delia rolled her eyes. "How is it that every time someone tells this story, the distance home gets longer?"

Alana ignored her comment. "That part of town can get edgy after dark. So I'm gonna walk her home." Delia's jaw dropped. This would be twice in one day where she had somehow allowed the situation to drift helplessly past her point of control. Luckily, she was intercepted.

"That's ridiculous Lana," Jacob reasoned, his voice sturdy but clearly worn out. "How are two girls alone at night any safer than one?"

Alana shrugged as if the answer was bloody obvious. "It's called strength in numbers."

"It's called 'asking for trouble'," Vladd said, choosing to finally enter into the conversation.

"Then what is she supposed to do?" Alana prodded. "She can't walk home all by herself."

Vladd shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I can walk her home." Delia froze. And Alana tilted her head sideways, considering the option.

"Hmm," she said, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I hadn't thought of that." And the way in which she said it immediately tipped Delia off. Something was very wrong here. She narrowed her eyes at Alana, but the red head found anything else to look at but her.

"Signora, you must accept his offer." Delia turned around, and resisted the urge to moan. When had the twins entered the negotiations?

"Si, you simply must. Dangerous streets. Not a place for a beauty like yourself." She still hadn't learned how to tell them apart, and the situation was only exacerbated by the fact that they insisted on always matching their outfits down to their bandanas. Very frustrating for onlookers and pit pockets. .

"Is a very good idea."

"Si. A fabulous idea." Once again, although she was quite sure that it was pointless, Delia opened her mouth to argue, but the cards were not in her favor. Alana clapped her on the back.

"Well, that settles it. Thanks Vladd!" The crowds seemed to disperse in order to return to whatever it was they were doing. And Delia stood in wide eyed wonder. What in the world had just happened?

"You got all your stuff?" Vladd asked, a polite smile stretched across his face. The kind of smile that ordinarily would've made her weak at the knees. Ordinarily being when she wasn't too busy being overly suspicious to notice.

She looked at him and nodded. He made for the front door, and exited. She followed closely behind, but not before turning around to cast one more glance at the club. Alana, Jacob, Aja, Terence, Shonnie, and the Twins were all waving at her with sickeningly sweet smiles wretched across their faces. 'So,' she thought to herself with one last growl before stomping out of the club. 'Turns out everyone does know after all.' And as she caught up to Vladd, she seriously contemplated turning in her notice the next morning.

**888888888**

Vladd did his best not to glare at the group of guys standing around outside a building stoop as he and Delia passed. But he didn't refrain from shooting her an apprehensive look.

"And you wanted to walk home by yourself. Yeah right!"

"Those guys are all bark and no bite. You don't mess with them, they don't mess with you." Her native New York accent sounded particularly thick as she muttered those words. And he laughed. But she couldn't bring herself to laugh back. The situation was entirely too awkward. Too good to be true, but also way too awkward. And the time that she would've normally spent sneaking longing glances at him was spent focusing on her feet so as not to trip and humiliate herself like she was prone to do. A quiet pause settled between the two of them as they kept to their comfortable rhythm, her low heels creating a crisp _clip, clip_ on the sidewalk. But Vladd was never one for long silences.

"So Delia," he started, and she turned to glance at him. After a moment, he realized that he had nothing to say and promptly started to laugh. Although she was more or less unaware where his laughter was proceeding from, she was content to join in. The situation was too preposterous not to. "So what kind of a name is Delia anyway? I remember you saying once that your mom was Puerto Rican. That's not a Spanish name, is it?"

"Um, no." She was eager to jump into any sort of conversation in an effort to avoid the awkward pauses. "See, my mom was really big into poetry. Her whole life. Sort of the way that you lot are with dance. She breathed poetry. Traditional Spanish poetry. Feminist poetry. Contemporary poets. Poems about city life and racial tension. She was sort of an idealist, you know? Lot of political conviction." She paused to gather her thoughts. "Anyway, as big a fan as she was of modern poetry, she could never break away from the sonnets. And _Delia_ is the name of a collection of sonnets written by this English poet, Samuel Daniel."

Vladd shook his head, clearly indicating that he had no clue who she was talking about. "He was a poet around the same time as Shakespeare."

He smiled. "Now Shakespeare, I do know." And she smiled in return. "So why Delia?"

They turned a corner. "Well, in the sonnets, _Delia_ is praised by the speaker for her darkness. Dark hair, dark eyes. My mom always liked them because of that. Back then, beauty was typically blond hair, blue eyes." Her thoughts drifted quickly to Barbie at the bar, and she rolled her eyes. "Anyways, here comes Daniel writing this whole series of sonnets where he goes on and on about her dark hair and black eyes. So of course, mom, ever the idealist, named me Delia after this warped ideal of beauty that wasn't really considered beautiful by anyone else other than Daniel." Delia's eyes lost their focus as she was pulled into a maelstrom of memories. "She used to tell me that story over and over when I was kid. Every time I was upset because of a boy or because some girl had been totally obnoxious. She would talk about how Delias are always different from everyone else. And that I shouldn't be bothered when I didn't fit in because I was _born to stand out._"

"But your eyes are green."

She laughed. "Yeah, I guess she figured they would get darker the older I got. Her plans didn't work out perfectly. But then when I got older and realized that myself, she just argued that my having green eyes instead of 'black eyes' was just my own way of trying to be even more different then Daniel's Delia."

Vladd smiled softly. "She sounds like a cool lady." Delia nodded. "She still alive?"

"Um...yeah, she is. But she's in and out of the hospital a lot. She's been fighting lung cancer for a long time." She smiled sadly. "For all of my mom's strong convictions, she could not bring herself to quit smoking. Guess she's done now." Vladd glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but she didn't take notice. Delia ran a tired hand through her hair. And they turned another corner.

"So what about you? Your mom as high strung as mine?" she asked with a laugh. He smirked in return.

"Not really."

Delia sneaked a peek at him. "Your folks still around?"

He nodded. "Yeah, they're around. But even when they were around, they were never really _around_, you know? Like they were always around physically, but never in their heads." She nodded, and he continued. "We never really had a lot in common, me and my parents. I think that bothered them a lot. So I stayed out of their way. And when I got old enough, I just left. I think they knew it was coming."

Another silence settled between the two of them. But this one wasn't awkward. It was just heavy. And they both understood that. Delia smiled at him.

"Well, you're welcome to my mom whenever you feel that burning desire to be coddled beyond compare. She would have a field day with you." The words left her mouth before she had time to consider them. He smirked, and watched her face.

"Field day why?" As if played in reverse, she suddenly processed the words that had just left her lips, and went into panic mode. She stumbled trying to recover.

"Oh, you know, the normal amount of motherly field day-ishness...when her daughter is walked home by some guy she works with." She kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead of her. And he kept his eyes fixed firmly _on her_.

"Some guy?" Her head snapped to look at him, and her face fell.

"Or, you know, a guy."

"A guy," he said, repeating her words like a trained macaw. And it was only slightly exasperating.

"Or, you know, _any_ guy. Any guy walking her only daughter home. Her _only _daughter who is still remarkably single even though she lives in New York City, where it is virtually impossible _not_ to find someone."

"Ah," was all he said. And he said it rather knowingly. But her senses were far too overloaded to notice. He smiled again.

"Yeah." Her words were sluggish now, and slightly disappointed. She stopped in front of an ordinary looking apartment building. "Well, this is me." She paused for a moment before taking one step up the stoop towards the door. "Thanks for walking me. You didn't have to do that."

"And risk you mysteriously not showing up for work tomorrow?" He shook his head. She smirked and raised her foot to climb the next step. But the sound of her low heal snapping underneath her feet reached her ears too late, and she found herself stumbling backwards. The situation was bordering on comical, but it ceased being funny when his arms wrapped around her waist. She regained her balance after a moment or two of struggling, and slowly turned in his arms, her eyes focused on her broken shoe.

"Are you serious? These are brand new!" He held her hand in his as she bent over and pulled the worthless shoe off of her foot. As she righted herself, she noticed almost immediately that while hand still held her hand gently, the other hand had resumed its place on her waist. She swallowed hard, and chanced a look in his direction. His eyes were watching her face, and locked onto her eyes like a tractor beam, relentless, unshakable.

And she swallowed again.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For not letting me fall to the concrete," she said with a tiny laugh.

"And risk you mysteriously not showing up for work tomorrow?" And he shook his head again, mirroring his earlier words and actions with a smirk. She smiled, and took a step away from him. He released her waist, the feel of his hand on her still warm and pulsing. But he maintained his grip on her hand. She watched his blue eyes, unable to break the hold that they had on her. She was absolutely certain that he could hear the dull pounding of her heart as it tossed and turned inside her ribcage. Or at least feel the slight tremble in her fingers. Without a word, he put her hand to his mouth and kissed the inside of her wrist.

The sharp intake of breath was the only indication that Delia had noticed his kiss at all.

He smiled at her once more. "Goodnight Delia." She didn't bother attempting to form words. And he didn't bother waiting to hear them. He walked further and further down the street until he reached the corner, and turned without so much as a look back. And still she stood there, hand still raised in the air as if anticipating an instant replay. Her wrist tingled in all of the places where his lips had made contact. She knew her olive skin made blushing nearly impossible, but she was certain that her cheeks were tinged with pink, burning under the amount of heat they were under. Delia turned, her busted heel still dangling in her hand and hobbled without a word into her building, her body on autopilot, and her emotions raging within her.

**8888888888**

**The Next Night**

While the memory of what had occurred the night before still fluttered around inside of her, Delia knew better than to allow it to effect her work. She had a job to do, and she was going to do it. No matter how amazingly gorgeous he was. No matter how brilliant of a dancer he was. No matter- she shook her head.

'Focus!' her inner voice yelled. She turned her attentions back to Jacob who was seated at the bar nursing yet another beer. He was busy catching her up on the goings on in the house. She had wondered briefly, upon arriving at the club, when he and the others were going to assault her with questions about her clandestine walk home with you know who. However, much to her surprise, no one had said a word. Not a hint or a laugh or even a wink. Nothing. Not a word. It was as if her pathetic excuse for a love life was of no consequence to them.

'Easy Del. Yesterday, you were begging them to lay off. Now you're upset because they're not giving you a hard time?' She smiled at something funny Jacob had said. At least, she hoped it was funny. Otherwise, her polite laugh could've seemed very out of place- and possibly offensive.

"Hey." Alana popped up at the bar, her fierce red hair in a hundred tiny braids. "This is for you." She handed Delia a folded piece of paper, and Delia set to unfolding it right away. She probably should've stopped to ask who the note was from but curiosity had gotten the better of her. The handwriting was a little bit scratchy, but once she deciphered it, her eyes softened.

_Oft do I must whether my _Delia'_s eyes are eyes,  
or else two fair bright stars that shine.  
Sonnet 31_

Her head popped up as if on a spring, and she stared at Alana. "Where did you..." Never mind. She craned her neck, and scanned the crowd looking for some sort of sign. Looking for those disarmingly beautiful blue eyes.

And when she found them, her heart began to race in that terrible and wonderful rhythm.

He smiled at her from his place at the door, and gestured for her to join him outside.

She shrugged her shoulders, and threw her hands up in confusion. "What?" she mouthed to him.

He pulled his hands up so she could see them clearly, and in his hands were her jacket and purse. She glanced behind the bar at where she normally kept that, and sure enough, the space was empty. But that was impossible. She would've noticed if someone had snuck behind the bar to nab her things. In fact, the only other non-bartender person that had come the bar was...

"Jacob." She turned and glared at him, but he could only smile back. In fact, both he and Alana conspiratorially had the same twin smiles on their faces. Polite combinations of the 'I toldja so' smile with just a touch of the 'You're an idiot' smile.

"Get out of here," Jacob said, gesturing back to Vladd who was still waiting, a smirk on his face.

"But what about the..."

"Never mind the bar. Now, get out of here before I fire you for refusing to take the night off."

And a smile slowly appeared on Delia's face. She pulled her hair out of its high pony tail, and made her way out from behind the bar. After planting a parting kiss on Alana's cheek and winking at Jacob, she took off towards the door, a pair of piercing blue eyes locked on hers the whole time.

**888888888**

**So there we are. Just a little piece of fun to play with. Hope you all enjoyed it. Take a second, succumb to those desires within you, and hit that beautiful litte review button. Right there. See? Hit it. Now. Hit it! I'm curious to see whether you all liked my representations of the movie cast. They were fun to manipulate. I particularly enjoyed Jacob. And I hope Delia was believable. Either way, let me know!**

**See you soon!  
-V.**


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